Time's Fool
by Zombie Brains
Summary: Bakura had always hated the royal family that killed his home, his family, his heart. Broken and alone, Bakura finally is shown kindness by the least likely of people, The Pharaoh. But the goddess Time will make sure that the past doesn't die that easily.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yuugioh. I didn't the last time I wrote a story and nothing's changed.

**Time's Fool**

**Prologue **

_"I never meant for things to go this far," I pleaded, crawling on my knees. _

_"But they did," she said, wagging a finger at me as a mother scolding her child. "And now you must pay the price."_

_"Bring him back! Please, make things right!" I screamed but she only shook her head. "MAKE THINGS RIGHT!"_

_"But, Bakura, it's just what you always wanted," she said, her cruel voice gentle and light. "He's dead, and you're the one to blame. Now you can die in peace."_

_"It isn't right!" I whispered, collapsing at her feet, taking the hem of her perfect dress and kissing it, the ultimate signal of submission. "Make it right again! Take my life, I don't care!"_

_"It's a little late to have a heart now, Bakura," she said, smiling her icy smile. "No one but Lady Death herself can bring him back. He's dead. And you killed him."_

-

- - -

-

I suppose I owe you an explanation. Perhaps, maybe, you'd like to know who died? Or maybe, you already know whose blood I've stained my hands with and you are waiting for me to admit it. But you won't hear his name uttered. No. You won't. Though I am a murderer, I will not disrespect the dead anymore than I already have by mocking his name. By letting it pass through my mouth. No.

But I will tell you how he died. I will explain every excruciating detail from beginning to end. How it started because I was a coward and how it ended because he was not. How the goddess Antevorta used, betrayed, and taught me. She taught me the only way possible. With pain. And God, if there was ever pain felt, my heart was ripped to shreds. Watching him there, bleeding, clutching his death wound, his eyes pleading to me. _Make it not true, _they begged me. But it was true. And because of me he died in anguish. I will tell you my story.

And then you may judge me. Call me monster, or what have you.

So… my story begins with a fool and a gun.


	2. One Shot

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yuugioh.

Now this is a story to help me not get overwhelmed with writer's block for my other story. Sweet, eh?

And I'm currently running an experiment with my OC so please review… for the sake of science.

**Time's Fool**

**One Shot**

It was raining. Pouring. Pelting my arms and head with the relentless onslaught of hail the size of quarters. Though I'm sure it injured me, I felt nothing. All I felt was cold. Numbness tingling my entire body. And rage. Fury surging through my being like blood burning my veins. This was the day.

I felt the cool metal of the pistol against my palm and waited. The rain blurred my vision but I knew what I was looking for; the light in the shop across the street was still burning bright, therefore my prey was still in my grasp. Flexing my grip on the weapon, I waited, sitting rigidly on an icy steel bench. My breath appeared before me in steaming, billowing clouds and floated toward the thundering heavens.

Someone was sprinting up the street trying to escape the rain and hail, kicking up rainwater as she went. She was dressed in a pinstripe business suit, though now it was soaked and clung to her bony frame. She held her briefcase over her head to avoid being pelted with the tiny hail, carefully avoiding my gaze. I suddenly realized how disgusting I looked. Ratted clothes, matted hair, filth-caked skin… I looked like I was a pathetic homeless wretch. What had that damned man reduced me to? I was once great and powerful, rich and prosperous… now I was a beggar.

The woman passed and I was tempted release a bullet into the back of her skull but I controlled myself. If he knew I was here he would certainly find a way to trounce me once again. But this way, he wouldn't know until it was too late.

Memories forced themselves into my mind's eye, and I watched as once again the pharaoh manipulated his way to victory after I had worked so hard to get to the top. I sunk deeper and deeper into my fury.

Across the street I saw the light of the shop flicker off and I felt my heart skip a beat. I stood up, watching the door open and the man stepping out, the pharaoh's bright crimson eyes visible even from this distance. He glanced up the sky as though just noticing the storm and turned back to me, faced his door and locked it. I raised the gun, aiming for between his shoulder blades, but he suddenly ducked down to tie his shoe. I scowled and aimed again but he was suddenly on the move again. Bowing his head against the rain he began to walk away, oblivious to his danger.

"Perfect."

I stepped into the street carelessly, my gaze never lifted from his back, nimbly sliding across the street. I noticed he moved with the regal fluidity of the king he once was, and a fresh wave of fury erupted inside of me. That bastard Pharaoh's bastard son still strutting around as though he were welcome. As if he were not the son of a murderer. Even his clean, crisp clothing angered me.

I felt the absence of hail and guessed the storm was starting to die down. He noticed as well and rubbed his head where the hail had pelted him, the weakling. But he seemed more interested in reaching his home than dwelling in the miserable weather and started toward his home. The downpour blinded him to my presence, as I followed him along the middle of the street, my eyes following his progress.

I raised the gun once more, knowing that this would be the shot…

Suddenly a car swung around the corner fifty yards in front of me, swerving madly, rolling up a curb and nearly flattening the pharaoh. He pressed himself against the wall of a corner store, watching the car's progress down the road. Suddenly noticing me for the first time, the pharaoh's eyes widened. My heart stopped.

"Hey you!" he called. "Get out of the way!" I let out a breath of relief. Clearly he didn't recognize me. "Move!" he shouted.

Suddenly the car was two feet away from me. The driver had swerved from riding the curb to the middle of the street. I tried to turn and run but the feeling of hot metal colliding with my side at fifty-five miles per hour overwhelmed me. It was as if my body was being snapped in half, along with every rib in my chest. I felt my skin rip and tear under the pressure, my body break. I felt the wind through my hair as I soared through the air. I felt the concrete shredding my skin as I skidded across it.

I heard the car screech to a halt and its door opened.

"Oh my God!" gasped the pharaoh.

And then everything was quiet. Except the rain. Pounding on my face. Suddenly he was bending over me, his sharp eyes examining me with worry. I wanted to hide my face, but it was too late. He saw me, who I was, and most importantly, what was in my hand. He stared at it for almost a minute, a hesitant look on his face. I wondered what was going through his mind as he glanced back at me, his eyes unfathomable. Sighing slightly, he reached wordlessly into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone.

There was a splashing noise and he spun around. The driver had crawled out of his now dented car and stumbled ahead maybe two steps and collapsed, splashing in the water that was sliding toward the gutter. He was obviously inebriated, his eyes glazed and the stench of alcohol radiating off of him even through the rain. He climbed to his feet and swayed slightly as he stood still.

"Dude!" he called, snickering slightly. "Du… dude, did I? Did I getcha?" His speech was slurred and he attempted to walk forward again but fell face forward. He looked back up, his face dripping with mud and spotted the phone in the pharaoh's hand. Suddenly he looked very sober.

"You haven't called anyone yet, have you?"

The pharaoh disregarded the drunkard as one would a particularly annoying fly and punched nine-one-one into his phone. I was shocked. I know he knew who I was, so why on earth was he calling someone to help me. But my body was hurt so badly. I couldn't move… I was barely holding onto consciousness. I was practically drowning in a puddle of my own blood. Ironic really. Considering how many times I'd made others die in their own blood in the past.

"Hello?" said a tinny woman's voice from the cell phone. "Nine-one-one."

Suddenly, quite limber, the drunkard dove forward and knocked the cell phone out of the pharaoh's grip, following by punching him in the nose. The pharaoh was thrown to the ground, blood spewing from his nose. He leapt to his feet his eyes darting between his phone, the drunkard, and me.

"What the hell are you doing?" the pharaoh shouted over the storm.

"I'm not going to jail!" screamed the drunkard. "I'll be damned before I go to jail! I have too much to lose!"

The pharaoh made a wild dive for his phone and managed to wrap his fingers around his now soaked phone, the drunkard leaping after him. Wrapping his arms around the pharaoh's waist, the drunkard pulled him down to the ground, and shouted as he started throwing punches. I moaned, feeling suddenly very cold. The rain suddenly died down.

For the first time in my life, I was glad the pharaoh was a bleeding heart. It seemed odd to me that he would suddenly put his feelings aside to help me. I heard the drunkard moan in pain and a thud. The pharaoh had knocked out the drunkard. Suddenly I heard the pharaoh swear.

"Damn it! My phone!" He threw it aside bitterly.

Feet were coming at me, kicking up water in every step. I was suddenly scooped up into someone's arms, the gun making a clinking sound against the street as I let it slip through my fingers.

"What are you doing?" I murmured, as the pharaoh sprinted away with me slung over his back.

"Shut up," he snapped. I heard the drunkard start shouting again.

"Where are we going?" I muttered.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" growled the pharaoh. "I'm taking you to the hospital, you idiot."

Pounding feet were following us; I gasped slightly, blood dribbling down my face. The pharaoh speeded up slightly, only slightly, my weight holding him down. Suddenly the drunkard lurched forward, grabbing the pharaoh's arm and spinning him into the ground, sending me rolling into a light pole.

"You're insane!" shouted the pharaoh.

"No," whispered the drunkard. To my immense surprise, he pulled my gun out of his back pocket and pointed it at the pharaoh. "I'll get you out of the way and I'll be home free. It's not like he has much time left anyway."

Suddenly the pharaoh slammed his hand at the ground, send a wave of filthy rainwater at the drunkard just as the gun discharged. Both men shouted in pain, the drunkard with the mud in his eyes, the pharaoh with the bullet that had just been launched into his chest. The pharaoh swung his leg around and knocked the drunkard to the ground, plucking the gun out of his hand as he fell. The drunkard knocked his head against the curb as he fell and he didn't get back up.

"Damn it," murmured the pharaoh. He tried to climb to his feet but stumbled and fell forward, clutching his chest, consciousness leaving him.

I watched my last hope collapse and I closed my eyes. No point in denying the inevitable now.

"Wake up, Bakura, King of Thieves," said a deep, beautiful, rich voice. I opened them, and saw a woman. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her long brown, curly hair reached down to the ground and trailed behind her like a train. A beautiful face that looked girlish with raw beauty and elderly with wisdom. Her long slender beauty was bent over me, her bright green eyes watching me carefully. This was a goddess.

"I am Antevorta," she said quite plainly. "You don't want to die like this, do you?


	3. Manipulation

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yuugioh.

**Time's Fool**

**Manipulation**

I stared at her, suddenly furious again. Who did this wretch think she was? She was looking down her nose at me and it made my blood boil. I glared at her through the scarlet blood dripping into my eyes, and she smirked.

"I know what you were trying to do, Bakura," she said, her voice cold and light, "but it was a foolish attempt. If you were to have shot the gun, the pharaoh's friend who was waiting a couple of streets away, Malik, would have heard it and rescued him from danger, leaving you to face the immense fury of the Pharaoh." She chuckled lightly. "Very foolish of you, Bakura." She glanced at the limp, motionless form that was the pharaoh and studied him for a second. I noticed he was bleeding freely from the chest. Shaking her head, Antevorta sighed.

I scowled at her. "Who the hell are you, woman?"

She looked at me, the look on her face etched with restrained glee. "I've told you, dearest, I am Antevorta."

My head pounding, my body broken, my blood nearly diminished, I choked, "What do you want with me?"

"I want to help you, dearest," said Antevorta casually, as though she often held conversations with people while they were bleeding internally. "I want to help you get revenge on Pharaoh Akhenamkhanen by punishing his son. I want you to get what you deserve." Her deep, almond colored eyes twinkled as she examined me, a cruel smile playing upon her pale lips.

"You're too late," I spat viciously. "He's already dead. And if he's not, there's no saving him now." I was suddenly shocked to feel not the relentless, cold pleasure I had counted on for years, but a pang of guilt shoot through my heart. Hadn't he just tried to save me? I rebuked myself. He was a weak, useless, bleeding heart whose father was a cold-hearted murderer. How could I possible feel guilt for the spawn of the man who killed my family?

"It's not too late. You want to make him suffer, don't you?"

I nodded, severely confused.

"A bullet through the heart isn't the worst thing one can do to a man, especially a man like the Pharaoh," said Antevorta, her voice suddenly malicious. "You want him to feel the anguish you've felt all of your life. You want to watch the lights leave his eyes as he dies, slowly… and painfully. This isn't what you… need. Someone needs to be taught a lesson"

Yes. This vile woman was right. I wanted all of that. "Why?" I wondered aloud.

"I've just told you." Antevorta chuckled. "Someone needs to be taught a lesson."

Could I trust this woman? What did it matter? I had nothing. Nothing to lose, but everything to gain. "What did you have in mind?"

"You will gain the Pharaoh's trust and then, when you have his trust in the palm of your hand you will kill his love and his two dearest friends in the entire world. Rage and depression will absorb him. Blinded by fury and weak with mourning, you will destroy him," she glanced at him again, the expression on her face unfathomable. "And your revenge will be complete."

"How do I make him trust me?"

"Leave that to me, dearest. For now sleep. You have a long day ahead of you."

-

- - -

-

I was warm and comfortable for the longest time I could ever remember being. I drifted in and out of consciousness for days to see blurred faces drifting in over mine, murmuring to each other, examining me determinedly. People were always talking around me, using words I didn't understand but I knew they were describing me. Broken ribs and dangerous blood loss? Yes, I remembered that. The drunkard… the car… the pharaoh…

I bolted upright in my hospital bed and a terrible throbbing pain in my chest erupted into a blinding fiery agony that shook my entire body. Crying out in pain, I collapsed again, wincing as I touched my hand to my chest.

"Idiot," I heard a familiar voice mutter. I raised my head slowly and carefully to see the pharaoh sitting in a chair across the room, his legs crossed, his arms folded neatly across his chest, his bright crimson eyes glaring down at me.

"What are _you _doing here?" I spat. His eyes flashed violently and I could tell he was fighting down his temper. The blood had drained out of his thin face, leaving him ghostly white, his mouth a severe line, and his hands were curled into fists. A bandage had been wrapped around his arm and continued all the way the under his shirt.

"I expect some gratitude, you filthy rat," he said evenly, "you were going to try and kill me that night and I saved your miserable life." He stood abruptly, his fury boiling near the surface. "You are a disgusting coward."

"So why did you save me?" I asked curtly.

"Because you had just been run over, you idiot," growled the pharaoh as though I had just asked him what color the sky was. "You may have left me to die, but some people on this earth are decent." Then, without warning, his eyes softened. He looked at me, and I stared right back at him. "You tried to kill me. And you would have shot me in the back if that man in his car hadn't come along."

I didn't understand what he was trying to accomplish in saying this aloud. But he seemed to need to say it. The look in his eyes reflected disbelief as he examined me and to my immense surprise, his face became weak. I had never seen him look this way before. Hurt, broken, and betrayed, though I could not imagine why he looked betrayed. I had never been loyal to him in the first place. My heart churned painfully.

"Stop looking at me like that," I said, sitting up slowly. I glared at his bemused look. "Stop looking at me like that!" My voice was suddenly strong and loud and I leapt off the bed, ignoring the ripping pain searing my insides. In one stride I was in front of him and balled my hand into a fist. He was on the ground before I realized what I had done. "I didn't ask for this! This is all your fault!"

"What did I do, Bakura?" he demanded. "Nothing! I didn't do anything! And you ripped my life apart!" He climbed to his feet and wiped the blood dripping from his nose with his sleeve. "Just because I was born! Because I was born into the royal family! You didn't ask for this? _You started everything!_"

"Don't try and blame this on me!" I bellowed. "Your father killed my family!"

"And you killed everything!" he cried. His eyes were shining. "You killed my dearest friend! WHAT DID MAHAADO DO TO YOU?" For a moment he looked as though he wanted nothing more than to hurt me, shake me, beat me… he even curled his slim hand into a fist but he suddenly looked at me once more. I saw his eyes fall on my bandages, my casts, my bruises. And he dropped his hand to his side.

"No!" I screamed. "Come on! Fight me!" And I hit him again. And again. And again. But he never once fought back. "FIGHT ME YOU COWARD!" He collapsed into a chair, but slid off weakly and fell to the floor.

"Mahaado didn't hurt you. His father didn't kill your family," whispered the pharaoh, spitting a small pool of blood on the linoleum floor. "You killed him. You slaughtered him like he was nothing."

"Shut up and fight me!" I said, kicking him in the stomach, and he coughed blood onto my feet. I heard someone pounding on the door but the pharaoh had locked it shut. "FIGHT-ME!" I said, emphasizing my words with a kick to his chest, where I knew the bullet wound to be and to the head.

"No, I won't fight you," murmured the pharaoh. "I won't because you're injured." More desperate pounding at the door. I heard someone calling for the pharaoh through the cracks.

"You're weak!" I roared. "You're a bleeding heart! You're the spawn of filth! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!"

"You're a murderer!" he cried right back. "You're pathetic!" He leapt to his feet and shouted in my face. "You're a dirty hypocrite! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!"

I grabbed his shoulders and threw him into the wall, and he slipped down to the ground once more, a dazed look on his face.

"WEAKLING!"

"MURDERER!"

The door burst open to reveal Ishizu Ishtar, Malik Ishtar, and Yuugi Mutou. His love and his two best friends. Malik bounded forward and sunk his fist into my stomach as Ishizu and Yuugi ran to the pharaoh's side. Suddenly winded, I fell backward, listening to Ishizu and Yuugi desperately call for a doctor to aid the now-unconscious pharaoh. Stiff and weak, I closed my eyes and waited for the doctor to come and throw me out of the hospital.

"What is going on here?" asked a beautiful, deep woman's voice. My heart skipped a beat, and I sat up slowly. Unmistakably majestic, Antevorta stood in the doorway in a doctor's coat, her long hair tied up around her head, and her hands on her hips.

"Doctor!" gasped Yuugi. "This man attacked my friend!" Antevorta raised a perfect eyebrow.

"The one on the floor or the one who just punched him?"

"The one on the floor!" cried Ishizu exasperatedly. "My brother only tried to get him off of--"

"Looks to me like your brother attacked a hospital patient," said Antevorta curtly.

"Only because this psycho attacked Atemu first!" sputtered Malik. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Why didn't you leave it to the security guards?" asked Antevorta, her voice sugary sweet.

"Because he could have been killed by then!" said Malik, nearly hysterical.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you three to leave," Antevorta said, smiling cruelly at them. Two burly security guards materialized at her elbows and stepped in the room and reached for Ishizu, clasping a giant hand around her wrist and yanking her to her feet. She gasped with pain and looked desperately around for help but the other guard was manhandling Malik and Antevorta herself had a grasp on Yuugi. The guard with an iron grip on Ishizu took Yuugi from Antevorta with his free hand. The three of them were dragged out, but they did not go quietly. Sounds of them struggling against the guards could be heard until the ding of the elevator sounded that they were being whisked downstairs.

"You now have your targets, Bakura," said Antevorta, her unwavering gaze on the pharaoh, sprawled out on the ground. "Take them away from him and he will fall. And the lesson will be taught."

And she was gone, leaving me with the pharaoh. I stared down at him, bloody and broken. And suddenly a pang of guilt shot through my heart. He stirred and I took a step back.

"Why did you save me?" I asked him quietly. "Why couldn't you let me die?"

"Because…" he murmured, half-conscious, "I thought you needed someone to help you…"

"Why did think you had to be the one to help me?" I said, kneeling down and turning him onto his back. I saw from his cracked eyes that he could barely hear me. I knew he didn't have the strength to hate me.

"You… you… don't have anyone else," said the pharaoh. "Who could have helped you?"

"No one," I answered him. "And no one should."

"Why?" I suddenly saw that he only knew who I was. He couldn't remember what I'd done to him at this moment.

"Because, you idiot," I spat, "I'm a murderer."

"Oh," said the pharaoh weakly, his eyes opening a little more. "Yes. I remember now."

"Good. Now you can get out of my life."

"You're not going to kill me? How odd." I heard the strength of his voice returning as he was pulled back into full consciousness. It seemed odd, but for once I didn't want to hurt him. You may be thinking to yourself one of two things. One, that I am nothing but a boldfaced liar and at the moment reaching for his neck in hopes of snapping it in two. The second thing you may be thinking is that I've suddenly some down with a sudden wave of weakness and sappiness. But both thoughts are wrong. Or maybe they are both right.

Maybe I did want him dead. Maybe I wanted to watch the lights leave his eyes as he fell by my hand. Or possibly I wanted to help him up and beg for his mercy. I wanted to beat him, make him bleed, make him suffer. I wanted him to look warmly and protectively over me as he did Yuugi. But I couldn't have both.

"Why shouldn't I kill you?" I asked him coldly. "You're father killed my family… my people… I'd simply be returning the favor."

"As true as that may be," said the pharaoh carefully, "he's already dead. My father died thousands of years ago. He wouldn't feel the pain of losing his son, would he? The only people you'd be hurting are people who've done nothing to you." He propped himself up on elbows, wincing. "Why should they suffer for my father's shortcomings?"

"They shouldn't," I heard myself answer. "But you should suffer. Someone… anyone other than me needs to feel this pain." I looked hard at him. "_Why _couldn't you have just let me die?"

"Death is the coward's way out," he said, pushing himself up tenderly so he was sitting upright. "Are you a coward?"

"No."

"Then you must live. You _will _live. You must have the strength to fight through this misery you're feeling. Once you have then, and only then, may you die."

"I don't have that kind of strength."

He stared at me, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Nonsense," he said, in a voice I had never heard him use to me. It was gentle. "You've got the strength."

"How do you know?" I asked him. Without meaning to, I felt my voice shake and I watched him determinedly avoid my eye.

"Because." He climbed slowly and tenderly to his feet, grunting in pain. "I've been on the receiving end of that strength." He looked at the door almost expectantly and sighed painfully. "I suppose if you're not going to kill me I should go see if I can find my friends." Wincing, he took a step forward and moaned. "Good luck to you." He straightened his back and took a deep breath and made for the door. I waited until he was completely out, his back toward me, to speak.

"You didn't have to save me," I said and he stopped. He didn't turn around. "Now… you've… now I'm…" He said nothing, only strode away and out of sight. I was alone with my thoughts. The echoing noises from the hospital added to my thoughts, the doctors' orders, the mourning wails from only two rooms away from mine, the constant beeping from everywhere… and I was…

"Confused."

-

- - -

-

Once again I sat on the bench across the street from that shop. But it was not raining. And it was not nighttime. The longer I was away from him and his cryptic lessons, the more I returned to what I really was. Furious, bitter, and cruel. I had sat on that bench shortly after he had arrived at his store himself. Every now and then someone would step in and shortly afterward leave with a bag in hand and a pleased look on their face. Around noon I saw Ishizu Ishtar arrive with what looked like a neatly packed lunch. She stayed for hours after she arrived and when he stepped out himself closing up for the evening, she was pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his midriff and placing her hands on his waist.

Every time someone walked in I knew he was getting richer. When Ishizu walked in, I knew he was enjoying the presence of his love. And it infuriated me. I sat, stewing in my own fury, feeling the injustice of the world falling around my ears. What right did he have, with his filthy blood to enjoy anything? I felt jealousy and disgust pulse through me as I watched Ishizu gently kiss his cheek and cling to him. I wanted him dead more now than any other time in my life.

And yet I did not have anything to murder him with. No gun, no knife. Though I had not seen her since the night at the hospital, I counted on Antevorta to help me break the pharaoh. Kill his little woman and his two dear friends, watch him crumble and then deliver the final blow.

But first I needed to earn his trust. And today was the day I would try to worm my way into his heart, the perfect place to break it. I smiled and stood abruptly, eyeing the pharaoh and the woman as he wove his fingers with hers and began to walk home. I strolled across the street and followed the pharaoh and Ishizu for a little while.

"Pharaoh," I said strongly, almost grinning when Ishizu jumped and clung onto the pharaoh tighter. He turned slowly and gazed over me sharply, placing a calming hand on Ishizu's head.

"Yes?" he said in a cold, mock-polite voice.

"I thought I should thank you for saving my life," I said sternly. I had rehearsed this all day, though it surprised me when the pharaoh did not look shocked by my statement. Though Ishizu looked quite shocked enough for the both of them.

"I thought as much," said the pharaoh, more to himself than me. This was distracting but I plowed on with my plan.

"And I'd like to apologize for trying to…" I paused for dramatic effect, "kill you." This was where I had planned to turn on the waterworks but a soft chuckle threw me off.

"Is what you've been rehearsing all day, Bakura?" he asked me sharply.

"Re—rehearsing?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed you sulking outside my shop all day. I was wondering if you were going to try and kill me again but this? I suppose this way is more entertaining."

"What way?" I asked, trying desperately to keep my cover. I covered my face with all of the innocent confusion I could muster. It turned out it wasn't enough.

"Don't you try and play dumb with me," he said, a cruel smile playing on his thin lips. "Yes, I can see the truth staring me in the face through your evil little eyes." He studied me, his icy crimson eyes piercing me as he did.

"I'm not playing dumb," I said defiantly. "If you know what's going through my head why don't you share with me what you've got the audacity to assume?"

"Gladly," he said briskly. "You're hoping to make me trust you then turn around and stab me in the back when I least expect it. Don't you have the mind power to at least be original?"

I smirked. He at least didn't guess my entire plan. "As good as that plan sounds, I'm sorry to say that I have no interest in taking your life that way."

"But you're still intent on killing him?" asked Ishizu harshly. "After he saved your life? He should've just let you die."

"Should've, would've, could've," I said lightly. I turned my attention back to the pharaoh. "Are you going to accept the apology or not?"

"No," he said coolly. I noticed he had tightened his grip on Ishizu's waist, and I wondered if it was out of anger or fear towards me. "I'll wait until you apologize and mean it."

"Too bad," I said. "I mean it now, and it's sort of a one time deal."

"Liar," spat the pharaoh. His glare met with mine and suddenly I knew the hatred I felt for him was mutual. We stayed like this for a few moments before Ishizu began to tug on the pharaoh anxiously. He cast me a final filthy look and turned and walked away, Ishizu glancing back at me every so often as though I was going to leap on her boyfriend's back and jam a knife in the back of his head.

They turned a corner and were out of sight when I heard Antevorta's voice. "He'll certainly be a tough nut to crack, won't he?"


End file.
